


The visions we know (and the family we don't)

by IdlyWoolgathering



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Grandpa Dooku, No beta we die like younglings, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Visions, obi-wan is very confused, probably not how the force works I'm making it up, qui-gon is trying to be supportive but not the way he needs to be lmfao, this is now a chaptered fic, visions might fix- if not everything- then a hell of a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlyWoolgathering/pseuds/IdlyWoolgathering
Summary: Obi-Wan wishes that the force could just be more forthcoming for once. His visions often left him more confused than even Master Yoda was capable of doing! Why can't it just be clear about the future?“Live in the here and now, padawan,” his master would chide if he were here. But how was Obi-Wan supposed to do that when the force constantly drug his attention to the future? Constantly poked and prodded and said, remember this, it will be useful? Why tell him at all, if he's just supposed to ignore it?He doesn't understand.
Comments: 59
Kudos: 284





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that Dooku is apparently strong in the unifying force has been rattling around in my head all week, and since I finally have a little bit of time, I went ahead and banged this out real quick!

_The men all have the same golden eyes and skin, wear the same armor, but the smiles are different, the postures all off. The souls, their very force presences are all so different. He doesn't know how the Senate can't see that they're all people, all separate, wonderful people. Obi-Wan's chest aches with the pain of sending them into battle. Why does he have to be responsible for their deaths? Why did the Jedi ever get involved in this war?_

_He knows why, of course. The Senate demanded it- knowing they can't turn away from duty._

_Sometimes he feels the Senate is needlessly cruel._

_And that, he knows, is the very reason they can't turn away now, why **he** must stay for his men, even when he feels he may break. For how can he turn them over to people who don't care? At least the Jedi have citizenship, can fight for themselves. The vod'e cannot._

_The Jedi must protect their men. They will suffer whatever they must- as is the Jedi way- but they cannot abandon these men to the cruelty of the Senate. They will protect them, see them through this war._

_And they are so close, so close he can almost taste freedom. Grevious is dead- and then, and then-_

“ _ **Blast him.”**_

_He's falling, falling with the smell of smoke and blood and dust in his nose and mouth, screams in his ears with the whistling of air past him- and then he's cold, sinking, the light vanishing above him, murky and shining, and everything is still._

**_Why?_ **

_The force shatters apart with a scream._

Obi-Wan startles awake, blankets pooling around him as he jolts up. What _was_ that? He feels the disorientation of a vision still clogging his force presence and mind and silently curses his precognition. Why him?

_Why?_ The pained echo of his dream makes Obi-Wan shiver. The older him- or at least, he thinks it was an older him- had seemed so sad. An army. A war. The _Senate_. He scowls, the memory of his bitterness towards the senate still mingling with his current feelings.

Why did it have to be so hard to untangle himself from his visions? He'd have to speak with Master Yoda tomorrow if it continued and it was the weekend now which meant that he might risk being subjected to _swamp soup._ Another shudder runs up his spine. The disorientation might be easier to deal with.

He remembers the spinning, stomach twisting feeling of falling. The dark is suddenly pressing too tightly in on him, and he hurriedly crawls out of bed. He eases his door open and slips into the hall quietly. The living room is lit well enough from outside that he doesn't need to turn on a light as he carefully gets himself a glass of water.

He'd prefer tea, but he doesn't want to wake his master.

He sips the water on the couch, staring out the window at Coruscant beyond. The lights twinkle and hum, always so bright and bustling. Life goes on, even in the dead of night. The senate building is likewise lit, always busy. A sense of foreboding fills him as he views it.

The Senate.

Why does the force curl around that word, as though trying to warn him? Warn him about _what_? It's frustrating. Obi-Wan wishes that the force could just be more forthcoming for _once_. His visions often left him more confused than even Master Yoda was capable of doing! Why can't it just be clear about the future?

“ _Live in the here and now, padawan,”_ his master would chide if he were here. But how was Obi-Wan supposed to do that when the force constantly drug his attention to the future? Constantly poked and prodded and said, _remember this, it will be useful?_ Why tell him at all, if he's just supposed to ignore it? He doesn't understand. He thinks sometimes that his master pays too _much_ mind to the living force, and doesn't understand the unifying force at all, the same way the living force confuses _him_.

He never voices the thought, though he sometimes thinks Master Yoda knows how he feels.

“ _Different gifts, the force gives all of us,”_ his great-grandmaster had once told both him and Qui-Gon, _“hard to see past them, it sometimes is, hmm?”_ Obi-Wan is not sure who the words were meant to scold. He thinks maybe it was them both.

The stars twinkle above faintly, not as bright as they could be, the light of the city casting the orange glow of light pollution across the sky. As much as he loves the Temple, he likes being on natural planets where the stars shine so bright. He shuts his eyes under the watch of the stars and tries to meditate the confusion away.

~

Obi-Wan wakes to the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen. He scrunches up his nose. Why are they louder than usual? There's rough fabric under his cheek and the blanket on top of him feels heavier than usual. He shifts and squeaks as he almost falls off the edge of his surface.

He sits up and blinks, staring around the living room. Why- oh. His cheeks flush. He must have fallen asleep on the couch while he waiting for the fear to abate. So much for not telling his master. He glances up as a soft step sounds in the doorstep. Qui-Gon leans in the door with a slight smile, holding a steaming teacup.

“Good morning, padawan,” he says lightly, crossing the room and setting the teacup down on the table in front of Obi-Wan, “is there something wrong with your bed?” his eyes are twinkling as he tugs lightly on Obi-Wan's disheveled braid. Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“I-” a yawn interrupts him, and he scrubs irritably at his eyes. Why is he still so out of sorts? Qui-Gon settles on the couch next to him. “I had a vision,” he finally manages, and the spark in Qui-Gon's eyes goes dimmer, “I couldn't settle so I came out here. I must have fallen back asleep. I'm sorry,”

“There's nothing to be sorry for,” his master says gently, “and padawan, you know you can always come to me with a vision, right? I may not be gifted with the unifying force, but I will listen,” Obi-Wan shrugs.

“I know, it wasn't painful, exactly” not as painful, at any rate, as the firey planet that often haunted Obi-Wan's visions, “it was just weird. There was an army of the same person- well, not the _same_ person. They were all different people, but they looked the same. Physically, they were same,”

“Like twins?” Qui-Gon presses gently. Obi-Wan frowns and shakes his head.

“No, they were exactly the same person physically. There were over a million of them. I was older- a master, I think. There was a war- I wanted to protect the army. I don't think they had a choice, the Jedi either,” he frowns, thinking about the warnings. Should he tell Qui-Gon what the force was warning him of?

Qui-Gon gently pulls the tie out of Obi-Wan's braid and runs his fingers through his hair, unraveling the hair and gathering decorations. When his hair is finally smoothed, Qui-Gon neatly starts a new braid. As he weaves in the first piece of twine, he finally speaks.

“Are you sure this was a vision, padawan?” his tone is careful, but Obi-Wan scowls at him all the same.

“Yes I'm sure!” he insists. He should've known the man wouldn't believe him. Why would he? He never did. Always looking for holes in everything related to the unifying force. Qui-Gon gives a warning tug on his braid.

“Well, perhaps, but let's think outside the box here, okay?” Qui-Gon reasons, “maybe this is just a very vivid dream. Do you feel like you don't fit in at the temple? Or in the galaxy? Like everyone else does, and you just don't? Is that what this is? You feel like you're alone in a sea of people who are the same?” Obi-Wan blinks, confused.

“What? No!” he huffs and tries to look away, but Qui-Gon gently turns his head back, deftly weaving in a glass bead.

“Or maybe,” Qui-Gon presses on, “has your body not been feeling right recently? Do you feel like you're in the wrong body, and everyone else is in the right one? You know you don't have to conform to the padawan fit if something else makes you feel like _you_ , padawan,”

“No! Master, I'm okay,” Obi-Wan sighs, “it was a _vision_ , not some profound dream about _who I am,_ ” Qui-Gon finishes tying off his braid and smooths it down carefully.

“Padawan-”

“Can I just talk to Master Yoda later?” Obi-Wan interrupts, ignoring Qui-Gon's answering frown.

“I don't know, can you?” Qui-Gon responds dryly. Obi-Wan crosses his arms, trying not to pout.

“ _May_ I speak to Master Yoda later?” Qui-Gon finally smiles, though it's dimmer than before, worried. He chucks Obi-Wan lightly under the chin.

“Of course, padawan,” he says primly, “finish your tea,”

~

Master Yoda listens through his vision without complaint or comment, sipping silently at his tea while Obi-Wan explains. His ears perk up curiously when Obi-Wan speaks of the senate.

“The force, distrustful, you feel?” he questions, and Obi-Wan shrugs uncomfortably.

“I think so- in the future, though,” he frowns, “I'm not really sure,” Yoda hums.

“Interesting, this is,” he shares, “alone in this, you are not,” Obi-Wan blinks.

“What?” he questions, “are you having the same vision?” Yoda shakes his head slowly.

“Having the same vision, I am not. However, having similar visions, another master is,” Yoda explains pensively, “coming to dinner, he is. Stay, will you?” Obi-Wan nods, but then hesitates. What if he's wrong and it is just his imagination? What if Qui-Gon is right?

“Something wrong, is there?” Yoda asks, head tilting.

“Qui-Gon thinks I'm just having issues with self-identity,” Obi-Wan admits.

“Just a dream, Qui-Gon thought it was?” Yoda questions, sipping at his own cup of tea. Obi-Wan flushes and stares down at his knees, feeling slightly foolish.

“Yes,” he mutters, twisting his hands in his lap. Yoda humphs.

“Very little, my grandpadawan understands of the Unifying Force,” Yoda says, “certain I am, that a vision, you had,” Obi-Wan looks up.

“Really?” he asks hopefully. Yoda hums.

“Much experience, I have,” he reminds, “know the difference, I do. Now, put the soup on the stove, you will, yes?” Obi-Wan grimaces.

“Yes, master,”

~

The man who sweeps into Master Yoda's chambers at the eighteenth hour is tall and stately, clothes and manner pristine. He hesitates only for a moment when he catches sight of Obi-Wan, a curious expression crossing his face.

“Padawan,” he greets in a deep voice, “finishing a visit?” Obi-Wan hesitates, suddenly unsure. What if the man- obviously a master- doesn't want him here?

“Staying for dinner, he is,” Yoda answers for him, “trouble with visions, he has been having. Familiar to you, some may be,” the master does blink at that, brow furrowing in surprise.

“You have a talent with precognition?” he asks, sweeping around the table to sit across from Obi-Wan. He fixes him with an unnerving gaze. Obi-Wan tries to smile.

“I have been having visions since I was two, Master-?” he hesitates, feeling terribly rude. The master's face looks regretful for a moment.

“Yan Dooku,” he introduces, “I have been out of the temple for many years now, padawan,” the name is very familiar to Obi-Wan, but he just can't place it, the knowledge slipping away every time he reaches for it. He smiles instead of chasing it and gives a slight bow.

“Pleasure to meet you, Master Dooku,” he says, “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Master Dooku's eyes widen at that, seeming taken aback. Then, his face shutters again, his head tilting.

“I see,” he says carefully, eyes searching over Obi-Wan for a moment, before his lips curl into a smile that seems painful, as though the act is unnatural to him, “please, call me Yan or Master Yan,” he insists, “there's no need for such formality here,” Obi-Wan nods, pushing aside the discomfort of calling a master by their _first name._

Master Yoda hobbles back over, settling at the table in between them, a freshly brewed pot of tea floating beside him.

“Introductions, we have made,” he says, a strange sort of smugness surrounding him, “now visions, we must discuss,” he turns expectantly to Obi-Wan, who hesitantly jumps into explaining his vision, watching with squirming insides as Master Yan's eyebrows raise steadily throughout. Does he not believe him either?

“I felt the force screaming in pain, and then I woke up,” he finishes awkwardly, “and the disorientation is still sticking with me, even after meditation,” he confesses, “which is unusual for my visions,” Dooku tilts his head.

“You said the senate felt distrustful and dark?” he presses, and Obi-Wan nods, hurrying to add,

“Yes, but I could be wrong, though! My master didn't believe it was a vision,” he flushes and looks down again, “he never believes me when I'm having visions, though,” he feels, more than sees, Master Yan frown. Then, a gentle hand settles on his shoulder.

“Your master has experienced a lot of pain because of his visions, few as they are,” the master offers gently, and Obi-Wan blinks up at him. How does he _know_ that? “But that doesn't make your own experiences any less real. I, too, have seen a dark, corrupt senate and an army of clones in my visions. You are not alone, Obi-Wan,” the man's dark eyes are gentle and searching. Obi-Wan smiles.

“Thank you, Master Yan,” he says genuinely, “what-” he swallows- “what do you think it all means? The warnings?” Master Yan sighs.

“Truthfully? I am not sure,” he gestures between himself and Master Yoda, who has remained strangely silent, “neither of us can make any sense of this. You and I are not the only people having visions of war, either,” he adds darkly. A shiver runs up Obi-Wan's spine. Master Yan squeezes his shoulder.

“In my dreams I'm a master,” Obi-Wan shares, trying to be comforting, “so at least it's a ways off?” Master Yan stares at him with a shuttered gaze, a strange sort of gentleness in his face.

“Yes,” he agrees, “though I think you'll find padawanhood passes rather quickly,” he finally drops his hand. Master Yoda hums the, glancing between them for a moment.

“Help either of you with this, I cannot,” Yoda announces, “too much insight into this, I have already. Biased, I am,” he looks between them both, “but meditate and study together, you might?” Obi-Wan blinks.

“What?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. Neither master looks to him, Master Yan too busy frowning at Master Yoda.

“I am not sure that is a good idea,” Master Yan starts, stiffly, “I'm sure Qui-Gon can handle it,”

“Teach Obi-Wan how to deal with his visions, Qui-Gon does not,” Master Yoda shares, tone containing something Obi-Wan can't work out, “and too old, I am, to help someone so young,” he finally glances at Obi-Wan, ears twitching, “help you to learn how to use your gift, Master Yan would be kind to do,” for some reason, Master Yoda's eyes are twinkling. Master Yan sniffs, though he turns to Obi-Wan all the same.

“Your master has not helped you learn how to control your visions?” he asks severely. Obi-Wan shrugs uncomfortably.

“I think he'd like to, but I don't think _he_ knows how,” he defends. There's a flicker of _something_ in Master Yan's eyes, and then he sighs, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“If he cannot help you, it is his responsibility to find you an apt teacher, padawan,” Master Yan instructs, and Obi-Wan frowns. Master Yan sniffs, turning to Master Yoda with an unreadable expression, though Master Yoda's ears twitch playfully.

“Very well,” Master Yan huffs, “I will teach Obi-Wan to control his gift,” Yoda hums.

“Good,” he croaks, glancing between them like his life day has come early, “now, soup, does anyone want?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dooku reflects on the past, Obi-Wan is excited to learn, and Qui-Gon is suspicious of the people around him. What's new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl I had a real bad headache last night so I took some medication, passed out for a while, woke up and wrote this, and then went back to sleep. Reading it this morning was as new to me as it will be for you all, so I hope y'all like it! I did.

_The sunlight filters around him, the soft pink plants swaying in the breeze, the white stone beneath him warm. It was a truly beautiful afternoon, one that made Dooku glad to be back in the Temple._

“ _Why would you trust him?”_

_Dooku jolts, startling out of his meditation, head whipping around. A small, red-haired child is knelt across from him, head tilted, large blue eyes curious._

“ _Youngling,” Dooku grinds out roughly, “please don't sneak up on your elders,” then, he blinks, registering the child's words, “and whatever do you mean by that?”_

“ _I see a dark man in my dreams,” the child explains simply, though a chill runs up Dooku's spine, “a dark man with power over two armies,”_

“ _Dreams are only dreams, youngling,” he reminds gently, but the child shakes his head, gaze unwavering._

“ _Not these. The dark man wants to trick you, wants to use you and then discard you for the one who will burn,” the child shivers at that._

“ _Who is the dark man?” Dooku asks, a strange sort of ice filling his chest._

“ _Sidious,” the child answers solemnly, “he is very bad. Promise me you won't be tricked?” Dooku stares down at the strange, stoic little child._

“ _I will do my best,” Dooku settles on._

Master Yan is staring at Obi-Wan with a strange expression as Obi-Wan settles into his meditative position across from him. The small meditation garden he's brought them to is full of strange, creeping-but-flowing pink plants, with a little bubbling fountain. The rest of the garden is still, and clearly not well used, spiderweb cracks crawling up the white stone.

“Do you often come here?” Obi-Wan asks. Master Yan shakes himself, as though chasing away a vision.

“Not in a while, youngling,” he answers vaguely, “now, come here, settle yourself in the force,” he holds out his hands to Obi-Wan, who shifts forward until he can take Master Yan's hands. The older man gently holds his wrists, resting them atop where their knees are touching. Obi-Wan settles himself into a light meditative trance.

“Very good,” Master Yan praises. Obi-Wan's chest glows warmly at the compliment, then jolts as he feels a force presence tap gently against his own. “Let me show you this next part,” Master Yan says, “it is difficult to explain, especially since you will have to find your own way to the cosmic force,” Obi-Wan hesitates a moment, checking that his shields were still high against Qui-Gon.

It wouldn't do for Qui-Gon to discover his extra instruction. What if he gets insulted, and wants Obi-Wan to stop? What if Obi-Wan never learns how to control his power? He pushes the thoughts aside and, with one last adjustment, lowers his shields and allows Master Yan's mind in.

Usually, Obi-Wan hates mentally connecting with other Jedi. The new mind always feels strange against his own, rubbing uncomfortably, and finding a balance is difficult. Master Yan, however, connects to him easily, in an almost familiar fashion. It's simple to let Master Yan take gentle hold of his attention and turn it inwards. It feels almost shockingly similar to how his own master directs his thoughts during joint meditation.

_Good,_ Master Yan echos in his head, _now, show me how you usually meditate._ Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and lets himself sink into the force, feeling out for the force around him. He expects the move to be awkward and jumbled with Master Yan by his side, but he sinks smoothly into meditation instead.

He lets himself drift in the meditative state for a while, occasionally trying to stretch out and connect with the living force around him as Qui-Gon has instructed him. While Obi-Wan is fairly good at the _accessing_ the force part of meditation, and feeling the overall weave, stretching his awareness out was something he still struggled with, much to Qui-Gon's continued disappointment.

_Good, Obi-Wan,_ Master Yan says after some time, _now, reach for the unifying force and let it touch you. It will be a lot, but you can learn much about your visions from it. I will help you stay grounded._ He gently directs Obi-Wan's mind to turn to the unifying force, and Obi-Wan reaches out, brushing against the cosmic force.

Rather than skirting away like the living force, the unifying force reaches out and _pulls_.

Sinking into the unifying force feels like there's a thick, syrupy liquid sliding into his lungs. Tugging him down into its grasp, his limbs heavy and thoughts sluggish. Random emotions push through his mind and for a moment, caught in the heavy dark, Obi-Wan feels like he's drowning, unable to see. There is only the syrup, and the echoing sounds all around him, faint and taunting. Blaster shots and echoed lightsaber noises. Muddled screams, flickers of fire.

He doesn't want to stay here. But he must if he ever wants to learn. Stubbornly, Obi-Wan reaches for the part of him that connects him to the unifying force. The thread wraps around him, and once again, pulls him past the dark.

Then, the dark lights up around him. A thousand bright blue and white strands of light spread around him as far as he can see. They are like strings, like threads and heavy ropes, strung everywhere, connecting- an intricate, unexplainable pattern. Every time he thinks he sees a pattern, a strand twists in the weave and changes it all. Bright things like stars burn in the distance, drifting around the weave.

Visions flicker in the back of his mind like book pages in the wind. To fast to catch more than an image of. Ghostly whispers. There's just _so much_ flickering around him, changing, always moving, flowing. A sea of lights and a story, reworked and revised a hundred times a second, a trillion little details and spiderweb strings. It's overwhelming, barely touching his mind but blurring past regardless.

It's too much.

Obi-Wan struggles to understand, to comprehend the images that fly past him. He can't grasp a single image to clarify it, can't find his bearings in this place. Already, the place he is has changed drastically since he arrived- how does he find his way back? How can he learn to understand this, when it seems to change at the slightest tug?

He tries to breathe in, tries to ground himself, but the syrup of the cosmic force sucks him further in. Obi-Wan flails mentally, trying to pull himself up, but he can't, he's just sinking and he can't handle it his head hurts and-

Master Yan's mind touches his and pulls him back, and all at once, Obi-Wan's thrown sharply back into his body.

He opens his eyes with a shuddering gasp, painfully squinting at the garden around him, his head aching something fierce. Master Yan's thumbs are soothingly stroking his wrists as he struggles, just breathing for the moment.

“Very good, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs, “though I must admit that I didn't expect you to jump into the cosmic force at its essence so _quickly_ ,”

“It _was_ a bit much,” Obi-Wan admits, voice hoarse, trying to blink around his headache. Master Yan frowns, and a moment later, his mind is enveloping his soothingly.

“Meditate with me again,” he requests, and helps him sink into a light trance, his own force presence pushing away the strain of seeing so much at once. He helps Obi-Wan settle, cataloging the different flashes of what he'd seen and helping him release it to the force at large without straining himself further. When Obi-Wan next opens his eyes, it's without pain.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says gratefully. Master Yan's lips twitch in the way Obi-Wan realizes means he's smiling.

“With practice touching the unifying force,” Master Yan explains, “you will soon be able to clarify your visions and better understand _why_ the force is showing you what it is,” Obi-Wan winces.

“Will it-” Obi-Wan hesitates- “will it always be like... that?” Master Yan's gaze softens.

“You will learn to soften the effect in time. The first time is always the roughest, especially for you. I had not quite realized just how strong you were- you have stifled your gift quite a bit, Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan blinks at that.

“I have?” he frowns, then, “it did feel like pushing past a barrier,” Master Yan nods.

“Indeed. I don't know why your creche masters never worked with you on this,” Master Yan sounds frustrated, in the tone of voice Obi-Wan's learned means a person knows _exactly_ why and dislikes it immensely, “the dark place you initially saw is the place most force sensitives see when they reach for the unifying force, young one. That is why they cannot understand it- they simply can't get to the plane of the unifying force,”

“Will I have to push past it every time?” Obi-Wan asks, then frowns, “and will I always feel so slow there?” Master Yan smiles at that, the frustration leaking away.

“No, next time you should be able to reach the plane easier. The force will always move more quickly, but in time, you will become better at blocking out the flood of images and focusing on only your visions. It will be easier next time,” Master Yan promises, “do not fear it, Obi-Wan, for you _will_ learn to control it. After all, that is why we are meeting together, yes?” Obi-Wan smiles at him.

“I suppose so,” he agrees, “so, what's next?” he asks determinedly. Master Yan blinks, then shakes his head with a chuckle.

“You go _rest_ is what's next,” he says sternly, “the steps you have made today are huge. The rest of the week, I want you to try and clarify what feelings the force was connecting you to in your visions. This will help you clarify your vision the next time we connect to the unifying force,” Obi-Wan nods.

“Yes, Master Yan” he answers. The older man fixes him with a leveled stare.

“Obi-Wan? Do not try to connect to the unifying force on your own yet. It can be very dangerous when you don't yet know how to center and tether yourself. We will always connect together, at least for now, understand?” Obi-Wan nods again.

“I understand, I won't,” he says, thinking privately that he wouldn't want to try and connect alone. Getting lost in the unifying force seems worse than just losing yourself in the force and dying. Like he could spend years there and never know or find his way home. Master Yan lets go of his wrists and nods to him, seeming satisfied with the answer.

“Very good, padawan,” he rises smoothly to his feet, “think of this part of the force as a muscle you have never used before. It might feel sore, and you will be aware of it in ways you have never noticed before, but with training, it will get strong. Now, go rest,” he helps Obi-Wan rises on his shaky legs, the world spinning a bit around him.

On the walk back to his and Qui-Gon's apartment, Obi-Wan is determined to spend the rest of the afternoon clarifying the emotions of his vision, but in the end, he barely makes it back before he's passing out in his bed.

~

Obi-Wan awakes groggily, his head heavy. He shifts with a grimace, spitting his braid out of his mouth and stretching slowly. His eyes feel sore and his throat is dry and scratchy. Force, but he's still exhausted! It isn't like he hadn't been warned, but that doesn't mean he has to _like_ it. He slowly sits up and glances at his chrono. Obi-Wan blinks in surprise.

_It's already seventh hour?_

He'd slept through both latemeal and the night, Obi-Wan realizes as his stomach growls. He shifts out of bed, grimacing as he realizes he's still in his clothes from yesterday. The blanket on top of him is the one from the end of his bed, however, meaning that Qui-Gon must have checked on him at some point during the evening and covered him.

Obi-Wan gathers a fresh set of clothes as quietly as he can and slips into the hall, hurrying into the fresher before Qui-Gon can catch him. Obi-Wan casts a glance at himself in the mirror and grimaces at the person looking back at him. He is decidedly rumpled, braid and clothes in disarray and red lines up his cheek where it had been pressed against the covers. There are faint dark circles under his eyes, and he looks paler than usual.

Obi-Wan decides that he can risk Qui-Gon's suspicion to take a longer shower than usual. He feels it's worth it, especially since he feels more like himself after. Obi-Wan neatens up his braid, straightens his new clothes, and then dumps the old ones in the laundry chute in the hall. He pushes down the anxiety bubbling in his stomach and heads into the kitchen. Qui-Gon turns from the stove the moment he enters, picking up a still steaming cup of tea.

“Good morning, Obi-Wan,” he greets, eyes carefully searching over Obi-Wan, “are you feeling well?” Obi-Wan nods, stifling a yawn.

“Yes, master,” he apologizes, “I'm sorry for sleeping through latemeal,” Qui-Gon shakes his head, setting the tea at the table and resting the back of his hand on his forehead with a frown.

“It's no matter,” he says, “just be sure not to skip any meals today, you hear me?” Obi-Wan nods again.

“I won't,” he promises, letting himself be guided to the table, “I feel fine now. I was just tired yesterday, is all,” Qui-Gon nods, still frowning. It's clear he doesn't believe Obi-Wan, and the boy stifles a flash of irritation at it. The man stares at Obi-Wan for a moment longer, face considering, and the fear that his master will keep pushing the issues starts to rise into his chest.

“If you're sure,” is all Qui-Gon says, though, turning back to the stove, “now drink your tea, little one,” Obi-Wan obediently sips at the tea while Qui-Gon serves up breakfast. With a flash of guilt, Obi-Wan realizes that Qui-Gon has made pancakes for him, despite Qui-Gon not caring for them, simply because they're Obi-Wan's favorite.

“Thank you, master,” Obi-Wan says meekly. His master ruffles his hair as he places a full plate in front of him.

“It's no problem. Eat up,” he says simply, sitting across from him and sipping at his tea, studying Obi-Wan carefully and not touching his own plate. Obi-Wan stares down his food, stomach turning. Does Qui-Gon know he's lying? Can he somehow tell something's changed? As far he can tell his shields are still intact and didn't fall during his experience with the unifying force yesterday, but his master is perceptive.

Obi-Wan finishes eating in record speed and hurries through the dishes, despite his master's protests. Then, he disappears back into his room to pack his bag for classes. He's lucky that it isn't the weekend anymore, where he would be under Qui-Gon's scrutiny all day. Obi-Wan doesn't know if his nerves could take it. He'll be a little early if he leaves now, but he shoulders his bag and heads for the door regardless.

“Padawan?” his master frowns at him from the couch, “where are you going?” Obi-Wan blinks at him.

“I have class?” he questions. Qui-Gon frowns again and moves to test his temperature again.

“If you're still feeling bad, Obi-Wan, you can take the day off,” his master gently reminds him, “no one will mind,” on one hand, sleeping off the rest of this exhaustion sounds _amazing_ , but on the other-

“I'm fine, master,” Obi-Wan insists with a smile, “I'll comm you if I start to feel bad,” Qui-Gon stares at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before sighing.

“I will hold you to that, little one,” his master acquiesces, lightly tugging on his braid, “but I want you here at latemeal, understood?” Obi-Wan nods eagerly.

“Yes master!” he turns to escape, “I'll see you later! Have a good day!” then, he's out the door and home free.

~

It is more difficult than he expected to pay attention to class. Not because he's particularly tired, because he is, but because everything seems so _new_.

Obi-Wan hadn't really noticed it with the stress of the morning, but the unifying force was making itself more seen than he'd ever had it happen before. A few times, passing knights and initiates, he thinks he feels the threads that might tie them together in the future. If he really focuses, he feels the weave of the force tighter than ever before- each action, reverberating and vibrating and _changing_.

_The future, always in motion, is._

Obi-Wan doesn't think he'd ever understood Master Yoda more- he suspects this is the closest he'll ever get to understanding.

Still, it's exciting to wander around the temple between classes, letting the weave of the force tug his attention to this and that. There is a faint memory in the back of his mind of him as a crechling, doing the same thing. He used to have more visions as a young child too, he knows. What had changed? When had that strange block cut him off, and _why_?

Obi-Wan resolves to speak to Masters Yan and Yoda about it. They'll know what to do.

Obi-Wan knows he should go straight home after classes, tat Qui-Gon is expecting him too, but he has almost two hours until latemeal so he detours to the Room of A Thousand Fountains to try the meditating exercises that Master Yan gave him.

The part of him that's still floating on his new, rich connection to the force wants to try to deeply connect to the unifying force again, but he reigns himself in. He isn't ready- overconfidence is a bad look on a Jedi, and beyond that, it's dangerous. He obediently settles into a regular meditation as he was bid.

Clarifying what feelings he experienced in his vision, he discovers, is easier said than done.

Bitterness, loss, and pain are the easy ones to recognize, still burning in a part of his chest. Obi-Wan was in a war in his vision, after all, one that the Jedi and their men seemed forced into. He knows the feelings well from Melida/Daan. The hopelessness, the helplessness, the hurt. The muffled, awful feeling in the force of the life leaking out of someone. He knows he will never forget how war feels.

The more difficult feelings to handle are the feelings of _hope_ , pf such happiness for the war to end, the _readiness_ \- and then the horrible pain of the force shattering. The confusion and pain, the betrayal, the haunted _why_ that is still echoing in his ears. He remembers the feeling of foreboding heat at the end of his vision, lurking around the edges. A heartbreak so potent his own chest still aches and his soul rebels against thinking of it.

Obi-Wan emerges from his meditation with wet cheeks, throat tight from the effort of holding in sobs.

All that he's learned is recorded down onto a datapad to show to Master Yan. A part of him balks at the pure, raw emotion of what he's learned, and he almost wants to keep it close. To lock it away in his chest and never let another soul see the raw pain his possible future self will feel. To never think of it again _himself_.

But that is not productive, Obi-Wan knows, and if there is a war coming he wants to be prepared. He has to unravel and understand his visions. He doesn't know why, but it is important. This whole... _thing_ with Master Yan is important, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.

He will keep on with it.

Obi-Wan just makes it back in time for latemeal. Qui-Gon is stiff and silent throughout, despite Obi-Wan's best efforts at conversation. He eventually gives up and allows the heavy silence to settle. He does the dishes as quietly as possible, resolving to give Qui-Gon space.

Obi-Wan slips back into his room and works on homework, fighting exhaustion until it's finally late enough that he can reasonably turn in. He slips into the kitchen for a final glass of water and finds Qui-Gon sitting at the table, staring pensively into a cold cup of tea.

“Master?” he asks, and Qui-Gon jolts, twisting to stare at him.

“Obi-Wan!” he wheezes, “you scared me,” Obi-Wan smiles apologetically.

“Sorry, Master,” he rocks back on his heels uncomfortably for a moment, before blurting out, “are you okay?” Qui-Gon blinks, then smiles tightly.

“I'm fine,” he answers flatly. Obi-Wan winces.

“You've just been distant all day, is all,” Obi-Wan pushes, hesitant but determined to get an answer out of his master. Said man shakes his head.

“Don't worry about it, little one,” Qui-Gon insists, though his tone a little softer, “I've been distracted all day, that's it. I'm sorry to have worried you,” Obi-Wan shrugs nervously, biting at the inside of his bottom lip.

“Do you want to talk about whatever it is you're distracted over?” he questions, and the man sighs and stands, tucking an escaped strand of hair back behind Obi-Wan's braid.

“No, I don't want to,” Qui-Gon answers, “and yes, I'm sure,” he kisses the top of Obi-Wan's head, “now go get in bed, imp. I can tell you're dead on your feet,” Obi-Wan smiles at Qui-Gon and the man's gaze softens further.

“But I don't want to,” he whines playfully, just to see the furrow in Qui-Gon's eyebrows loosen further, and Qui-Gon teasingly starts gently shoving him down the hall to his room. He stands in the door until Obi-Wan has turned down his covers and crawled into bed. Then, his master turns off the light, still slightly illuminated by the faint light of the kitchen.

“Goodnight, master,” Obi-Wan says with a yawn, not missing the slight smile Qui-Gon gives him.

“Goodnight, dear one,” Qui-Gon pauses in his bedroom door, hesitating, “and Obi-Wan?” Obi-Wan glances up.

“Hmm?”

“Wake me if you have a vision,” his master requests, then gently shuts the door before Obi-Wan can respond, leaving him alone in the dark of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a chaptered fic, though it probably won't be very long! I wasn't originally planning to continue this, but I'm glad y'all wanted more and hope y'all still do because oh boy do I have some ideas for this fic now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is struggling with his abilities a little and Qui-Gon doesn't know how to parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie you guys, this one really didn't want to get written. My space and life has been seriously invaded by someone this past weekend to the point where I'm scared to leave my dorm and the mood to write just hasn't been there. I can't keep agonizing over writing and updating this, though, so here y'all go. Hope you all enjoy! I did my best.

Master Yan's apartment is a little dark, though the curtains are open. The furniture is rich and antique, and, in Obi-Wan's _private_ opinion, screams that Master Yan is getting up there in age.

“What kind of tea do you like, Obi-Wan?” Master Yan asks, interrupting his thoughts as he pulls out a kettle. Obi-Wan shrugs a little uncomfortably from the kitchen table where he was sat. When he was invited over to Master Yan's apartment for their second session, he wasn't expecting it to start off as a social visit.

“Whatever you usually drink will be fine for me,” he says politely. Master Yan shakes his head.

“No, no,” he tuts, “you're the guest here. Don't be shy, now,” he takes a plate of scones and sets them in front of Obi-Wan, “and do help yourself,”

“Thank you, Master Yan,” he says with a slight bow, “if you have Alderaanian Jade Flower tea, I would prefer that,” Master Yan smiles at him and moves to his cupboards.

“I believe you're in luck, little one,” he says, pulling out the distinctive jar, “I have a fresh blend,” as they wait for the tea to brew, Master Yan settles across from him, studying him.

“So tell me about your classes- what's your favorite? How are your saber forms coming?”

“I like my ancient history class best as of right now. Old civilizations are fascinating,” Obi-Wan offers, “they're coming along fairly well!”

“What's your primary form?”

“Ataru,” Master Yan's eyebrows furrow at his answer.

“Ataru? That's not a form I would have chosen for you,” Obi-Wan shrugs uncomfortably, “well, tell me you're at least supplementing the holes with a defensive form. I've always preferred Makashi, though Soresu might fit you better,”

“I'm not supplementing with any, Master Yan,” Obi-Wan explains, “if I can connect to the living force well enough, Master Jinn says Ataru will do me just fine,” to Obi-Wan's surprise, Master Yan scoffs at that.

“That won't do,” he mutters, before adding, “Obi-Wan, it's important to be well-versed in several forms of the saber. Even better to achieve mastery of at least two- an aggressive and defensive form,” he frowns, “talk to your master about it, please. I would hate to have something happen to either of you,” Obi-Wan nods, filing the information away.

“I will,” he promises. Master Yan smiles at him then.

“You and I will have to spar sometime, young one,” he pushes the scones across the table, “now eat up. You will need your strength for our session this afternoon,”

Despite Obi-Wan's best efforts, Master Yan makes him finish his tea and eat a scone before he will allow them to get started, asking menial questions about his training with Qui-Gon all the while.

Eventually, he allows them to move to the living room and settle down on two meditation mats. Obi-Wan allows Master Yan to take his hands and closes his eyes, sinking into meditation and allowing Master Yan into his mind. It takes him a moment, but he manages to wrestle the excitement under control and release it to the force.

“ _Very good, Obi-Wan,”_ Master Yan praises mentally, _“your connection with the cosmic force has deepened and strengthened,”_

“ _Thank you, Master Yan,”_ Obi-Wan answers, feeling more grounded in his meditation than he has in ages.

“ _Now follow my lead and we'll work on clarifying one of your visions in the force,”_ Master Yan instructs, _“focus on one emotion at a time, find the thread, clarify it, and then find the next. One step at a time, alright?”_

“ _Yes, Master Yan,”_

“ _Excellent,”_ Master Yan answers, _“now, together,”_ mentally, they link together and Master Yan pulls him carefully into the unifying force.

Unlike before, there is no dark place. The beauty of the cosmic force sparks around him instantly, blazing brightly, the threads snapping into place. The emotions and visions still flicker through his head, but Obi-Wan forces himself to focus.

He's tempted to reach for the betrayal and grief first, knowing it'll be easier to grasp, but the pain still echos in his chest. He can't- he's not strong enough yet. He searches for the pained confusion instead, Master Yan helping him touch the emotion without it overwhelming him.

He focuses on the pain, on the twisting and falling, the wondering. Something sharpens slowly and he reaches out, searching, shifting. Where? Where is it?

Slowly, he feels a thread sharpen.

It's thick and burning, burning with pain and that horrible, awful confusion. It's thick and blue, substantial, but it's dripping in black corruption, staining the threads around it and Obi-Wan's hands as he reaches out and grasps it.

_The man- Cody, and he doesn't know how he knows that- smiles at Obi-Wan, bucket under his arm, lightsaber in his hand. There's friendship, trust, and respect running deep between them. Maybe something else- he doesn't know. He just knows his smile is just as genuine as he takes the saber, his own words lost in the blur of the unifying force._

_He moves away, moves up the cliffside._

_In real life, Obi-Wan knows, he's too far away to ever hear those words. To ever know why. But in this vision, he does._

“ _ **Execute order 66,”** a raspy voice spits, and just like that, all the warmth is gone. A scream of horror silenced in the force in a split second, his other stiffening, and then, _

“ _ **Blast him.”**_

_And he's falling- not understanding. Still thinking his brothers-in-arms are hurt, are in trouble, not understanding. Why would they be in so much horror and pain if not?_

_Why?_

The betrayal oozes into the why as easily as Obi-Wan breathes, sweeping him to another thread and clarifying. This, he's only seen once before, and the urge to be sick rises in his stomach. But he can't pull away, too frozen.

_Tiny bodies, strewn across the floor, eyes unseeing._

_The temple burning._

_Why._

_Why?_

_**Why?!** _

Master Yan's mind envelops his and he realizes he's panicking against the feeling, faintly feeling his physical body shuddering. The master pushes the feelings away firmly, tugging the strand from his grasp and letting it snap back into the pattern of the future, hidden from view. He pulls him further from the unifying force, dulling the flickering visions.

“ _Hush, young one,”_ the older master comforts, _“breathe in and let it out, let's rise, now, yes?”_ they surface from the unifying force slowly.

They remain in meditation for a while, releasing the emotions and sorting through what's Obi-Wan and what's that horrible, _broken_ Obi-Wan of the future. Finally, they slowly ease out of meditation and Obi-Wan opens his eyes and sucks in a wet breath. He blinks, realizing with a flash of embarrassment that he's been pulled up against Master Yan's chest and he's clutching his clothes like a child, cheeks wet.

“'m sorry,” he hiccups miserably. Master Yan shushes him, hand rubbing his back soothingly.

“No, Obi-Wan,” his voice is pained, “ _I'm_ sorry. You shouldn't have had to experience that,” Obi-Wan can't find it in him to pull away from the man as he's gently rocked, head sluggish and exhausted. He finds himself grateful for the older man as he says nothing, and simply starts to hum.

His last thought is that the song is the same on Qui-Gon uses to comfort him when he's injured.

~

_He's alone, alone in dark hallways, running._

_There's cruel laughter in his ears, the force screaming in warning but he can't move. A hand reaches for him from out of the dark._

_The unifying force goes dark._

Obi-Wan wakes to the stillness of an apartment around him, soft material under his cheek and covering him. Another vision? But, Obi-Wan considers, it doesn't _feel_ like a vision. It feels like a memory, one he just can't quite grasp. He opens his eyes, then squints in the brightness of the afternoon sun.

How much time has passed? He turns to look at his chrono, then blinks at the unfamiliar apartment. Where-

_Master Yan._

He sits up, glancing around the older master's apartment. The man is nowhere to be found, though there is a glass of water on the table next to him. He downs it gratefully, wincing at the crick in his neck. Master Yan's couch obviously isn't meant for sleeping, not that any couch is, but Qui-Gon's is _much_ more comfortable.

Speaking of, he still needs to meet Master Qui-Gon for dinner. The man still isn't happy with his food input. Obi-Wan winces at the time as he checks his comm. He can probably make it, but he'll need to run. Hopefully, he isn't reprimanded by any masters who know his own.

Obi-Wan feels bad about leaving without saying goodbye, but he can't find Master Yan, so he scribbles him a message on a spare piece of flimsi, informing him of his whereabouts.

It takes Obi-Wan longer than he anticipated to make it back to his quarters. After all, he and Qui-Gon live in the sector where padawans and masters apartments are. Master Yan lives where all the older masters are- not that he seems to acknowledge it. Regardless, the run is a long one, his heart thumping harder with every minute that goes by.

He makes it to their door, drenched in sweat and the golden afternoon light right at the eighteenth hour, having only been reprimanded for running by two masters with vague connections to his master. Obi-Wan considers it a victory. He palms open the door, entering.

“Master, I'm home!” he calls. The room feels icy and a shudder shakes it's way up his spine.

“Hello, padawan,” his master greets from the table, “how kind of you to grace me with your presence,”

“Master?” Obi-Wan asks hesitantly, noticing that there aren't any dishes on the table.

“I asked you to be home for dinner at the seventeenth hour, Obi-Wan,” his master informs him, as Obi-Wan's heart sinks, “tell me, what was so important you couldn't even comm?”

“I-I-” Obi-Wan struggles, “I thought you said the eighteenth hour, master,” he admits weakly, “I'm sorry,” his master huffs and stands, sweeping to the oven, where he removes his covered food, setting it on the table.

“Eat,” he demands, and Obi-Wan shuffles to his chair quickly, hurrying to obey, “I did message you,” his master informs him, still standing over him, “why didn't you answer?” his fingers catch lightly on his tousled padawan braid. Obi-Wan inwardly winces.

“I fell asleep, master,” he says, “I'm sorry,” Qui-Gon's gaze softens a little.

“Padawan, are your visions still bothering you?” the man asks, finally moving away to sit across from him. Obi-Wan shrugs nervously.

“I suppose,” he says, then frowns, “I had another this afternoon. Or- I think it was,” he scowls at his plate, “it felt like a vision but like a memory in vision form?” Qui-Gon frowns, uncomprehending.

“So it was just a nightmare,” Obi-Wan scowls, irritation flashing in his chest. Master _Yan_ would know what he meant.

“No,” he snaps, “it _wasn't_ a nightmare. It was a vision!” Qui-Gon's firm disappointment is back in place.

“Padawan, watch your tone,” he warns.

“ _You_ learn something about the unifying force,” Obi-Wan shoots back. His master's expression darkens.

“Obi-Wan Keno-” Obi-Wan slams his fork down on the table and flies to his feet.

“No!” he yells, “you never listen to me! It's a _vision_! You have no idea what the unifying force is like, what I have to go through!” Qui-Gon stands himself, towering over him.

“That's _enough_ , Obi-Wan Kenobi!” he commands, “go to your room this instant!” Obi-Wan rocks back on his heels, hesitating. Kriff it.

“No!” he challenges, even as he mentally shrinks in on himself, “why won't you open your eyes?!”

“Padawan!” Qui-Gon's voice finally raises, “I will not listen to another moment of this disrespect. You have been out of line recently,”

“I've been out of line? _I've_ been?” Obi-Wan clenches his fists, “you're the one avoiding me!”

“Give me your comm and go to your room,” Qui-Gon levels him with a steady gaze, “you have until the count of three,” Obi-Wan's nails dig into the palm of his hand as he defiantly lifts his chin.

“Three,” Qui-Gon's gaze is steely. Obi-Wan's heart pounds in his chest but he doesn't waver. What will the man do if he doesn't obey?

“Two,” he feels a trickle of warmth in his palms as his nails break skin. He won't back down. He deserves to be listened to. The unifying force is pounding in the back of his head. A warning? Another vision? He doesn't know.

“One,” Qui-Gon spits, and steps around the table, reaching for him. The world tilts and Obi-Wan's vision overlaps for a moment, and Obi-Wan is _frozen in place, unmoving in a cold dark hall with two sets of yellow eyes on him and he's screaming,_ _ **screaming-**_

_Where is everyone? Where?_

_**Why?** _

_The water is so cold and dark._

“-Wan! Padawan!” Obi-Wan heaves in a shuddering breath, shaking his head, cradled between his arms.

“Please don't,” he whimpers, voice scraping hoarsely over his throat, “please don't,”

“Okay, okay I won't,” the deep voice agrees desperately, “I won't. What do you need me to not do?”

“Don't take the unifying force away from me!” his voice pitches up again and cracks. He feels the confusion in the force.

“I would never do that, Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan finally manages to raise his head, blinking fearfully around him. There are shattered dishes scattered around, the table and chairs lopsided. His master is crouched in the center of the chaos, pain in his face and eyes as he gazes at Obi-Wan.

“Master?” he asks cautiously, and relief floods Qui-Gon's face.

“Yes, Obi-Wan, it's me,” he holds out his hands to Obi-Wan carefully. Obi-Wan flies across the space, hurtling into his master's chest with a sob. His master wraps his arms tightly around him, rocking him. “You're safe,” his master whispers into his hair, “hush now, little one, I have you,”

For the second time that day, Obi-Wan just allows himself to be held as he sobs himself to sleep.

~

Their apartment is quiet other than the soft rumbling under his ear as Obi-Wan comes to. He keeps his eyes closed and his breathing steady as he tries to figure out where he is. He's wrapped in what he recognizes as their couch blanket, with his master's hand stroking up his back, slow and methodical. He must be curled up to his master, he realizes, cheeks heating slightly.

“He's fine now, just exhausted. Yes, he's still sleeping. No, I don't know what caused it,” his master murmurs quietly, “ _yes_ , Mace I realize it was a disturbance and people are worried,” Qui-Gon's voice has sharpened with irritation, “but he's not in any headspace for me to question him right now,” he sighs, “tell my grandmaster it's vision-related, that's all I know,” he pauses, “hmm yeah, you too,” he hangs up, settling his other hand into Obi-Wan's hair again.

Obi-Wan lets himself doze off again.

When he next wakes, there's a hand gently petting his head. It takes him a moment, but he realizes he's in his master's lap. He shifts and the hand pauses.

  
“Obi-Wan?” his master's voice is hopeful. Obi-Wan sits up, scrubbing at his eyes.

“What happened?” he murmurs, voice cracking. Qui-Gon's fingers brush his cheek.

“I don't know,” Qui-Gon admits softly, “one moment we were fighting and the next you were panicking and destroying our kitchen,” Obi-Wan winces.

“I'm sorry,”

“No, I'm sorry,” Qui-Gon's eyes are searching when Obi-Wan finally meets them, “padawan, you kept saying I was going to take the unifying force away from you. You know I would never do that, right?”

“I know that,” Obi-Wan starts hesitantly, “but someone did. I _saw_ them,” the man blinks uncomprehendingly at him, then frowns.

“Someone blocked you from using the unifying force? Obi-Wan...” it's obvious he doesn't believe him. Obi-Wan chokes on a sob, burying his head in his arms again. His master hurriedly soothes him, “no, no, Obi-Wan, it's just... your gift has only cropped up recently, is all,”

“But I used to have visions all the time as a child! And I've been training my unifying force and I had to push past some kind of block and now I can access it all the time! It's _real_!” Obi-Wan insists desperately, and his master recoils, several emotions flashing across his face.

“You broke a force block yourself? Obi-Wan, that's incredibly dangerous,” his master finally settles on, “you should always ask a master for assistance,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“I had a master for assistance,” he snaps, “and I have been training my unifying force with him. This was a vision, I _know_ it,”

“You've been training your ability in the unifying force?”

“Yes?” Obi-Wan answers, then pauses, struggling for a moment, “I've been going to work on my visions with an older master that Master Yoda assigned me,” he finally quietly admits, gaze fixed on his boots, “it's been helping me a lot. Please don't make me quit!”

The apartment is silent in the wake of his confession. Obi-Wan's throat gets tight. He was right not to tell his Master- now, he'll have to stop his meetings with Master Yan and the grief and pain and _dark_ will start to creep back in and-

-his master pulls him into a hug.

“I understand,” Qui-Gon whispers, voice choked, “little one, I never _ever_ want you to feel like you need to lie to me to get the care you need. I am so sorry,” Obi-Wan's eyes are burning hot with tears as his master pulls him closer, a hand running through his hair comfortingly.

“It's okay,” he tries to reassure, “I understand why you-”

“Understanding doesn't make it okay,” Qui-Gon squeezes him tighter, “force, Obi-Wan. I thought- I was worried you were falling down the same path as Xanatos- but that's no excuse. I shouldn't have treated you like I did,”

“Master-”

“Hush, young one,” Qui-Gon kisses the crown of his head, “I'm sorry,”

“You're forgiven,” Obi-Wan finally just says, squeezing his master tighter.

Eventually, Qui-Gon lets him go, and Obi-Wan respectfully averts his eyes while his master scrubs at his own cheeks and gets up to make tea in what's left of their kitchen. When they both have steaming cups of tea in their salvaged teacups, Obi-Wan curls back into his master's side on the couch.

“Has your training been helping you?” Qui-Gon questions, “you've seemed... peaky, is all,” Obi-Wan shrugs.

“I don't know,” he confesses, “but I think so! I can feel the force much more clearly than before,” they slip back into a thoughtful silence.

“You said an older master, why not Master Yoda?” his master questions after a while.

“Because Master Yan was having similar visions!” Obi-Wan chirps, smiling up at his master.

Qui-Gon chokes on his tea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lineage has Issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am feeling much better, and thank you all for your kind words and support! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I have a ton of ideas for what comes next. This is just kind of a bridge chapter and is pretty dialogue heavy so forgive me, but we're on the path to more excitement soon!

  


“Because Master Yan was having similar visions!” Obi-Wan chirps, smiling up at his master.

  


Qui-Gon chokes on his tea.

  


“ _Who?_ ” he splutters, staring at Obi-Wan through teary eyes.

  


“Yan Dooku?” Obi-Wan asks, tilting his head, “do you know him?”

  


“ _Do I know-_ ” Qui-Gon huffs an irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “ _yes_ , padawan, I know him. He's- well,” Qui-Gon winces, “Master Yan Dooku is your grandmaster,”

  


There's a beat of perfect silence, then-

  


“He's my _what?_ ” Obi-Wan asks, aghast.

  


“Your grandmaster- my own master, Master Yoda's padawan, you know,”

  


“But why wouldn't he have told me?” Obi-Wan questions, confused. Qui-Gon's gaze darkens.

  


“Most likely because he knew you'd speak of it to me if he told you,” his master's fingers are white-knuckled around his cup, “he knows I didn't want you speaking to him- and he's never respected my decisions when it comes to my padawans,”

  


“He didn't choose to be my unifying force... guide, though,” Obi-Wan says carefully, “Master Yoda assigned him to me,”

  


“Of course,” Qui-Gon sighs, “of _course_ the troll has something to do with this. He never liked that he and I became so estranged,”

  


“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Obi-Wan says, and Qui-Gon shakes his head.

  


“No doubt he made you feel like you couldn't,” he tugs on his braid, “I am so sorry. I'm sorry my master did this to you. He's always known how to play me,”

  


“Master, I don't think-”

  


“Of course you don't,” Qui-Gon says dismissively, “but I know him better. I had a bond with him for many years- I know how manipulative he can be,”

  


“He did feel like you in the force,” Obi-Wan muses, as Qui-Gon winces. His master sucks in a deep, steadying breath before finally opening his eyes and turning fully to Obi-Wan.

  


“I'm so sorry you've been dealing with him without me out of fear of my reaction,” Qui-Gon takes his hands, “I promise you, if you need a new teacher, I will _find_ you one. I swear I will attend every lesson from here on out. I am _so_ sorry, Obi-Wan,”

  


“Why are _you_ apologizing?” Obi-Wan asks in confusion, “ _I'm_ the one who lied to _you_ ,”

  


“Because I never wanted this to happen and I thought I was protecting you by keeping you away from him,” Qui-Gon scoffs bitterly, “I didn't realize he would weasel his way in without my notice,” Obi-Wan blinks, tilting his head.

  


“You keep saying that and I don't understand what you mean,” Obi-Wan questions, “why would you need to protect me from Master Yan?” Qui-Gon is staring at him like he's grown a third head.

  


“What do you mean why?” Qui-Gon shakes his head, bewildered, “also, _Master Yan?_ Why do you keep calling him that?” it's Obi-Wan's turn to stare at Qui-Gon strangely.

  


“Because he told me to?” he blinks as Qui-Gon's mouth falls open, “he said Master Dooku was too formal,” Qui-Gon sits back on the couch and stares pensively at the ceiling. “Master?”

  


“What the _fuck_ ,” Qui-Gon mutters, pinching his nose, “Obi-Wan is Master D- _Yan_ nice to you?” Qui-Gon's tone of voice is incredulous. Obi-Wan frowns.

  


“Of course he is!” Obi-Wan says, “why wouldn't he be? You keep talking about him like he's a monster, but he's very nice!”

  


“Why wouldn't he- Obi-Wan, what?” Qui-Gon is staring at him in disbelief, “are we talking about the same Yan Dooku?”

  


“Tall and kind of stately?” Obi-Wan asks, “wears all these long dark robes?” he imitates a sweeping motion with the edge of his blanket. Qui-Gon's lips twitch up around the disbelief and confusion.

  


“That sounds like him,” Qui-Gon sighs, “little one, you don't have to lie to spare his feelings. I promise you, I will protect you. You won't ever have to see him aga-"

  


A knock interrupts Qui-Gon.

  


“I told the council to leave us alone,” he grouses after a moment of silence, rising, “I'll be back in a moment,” he sweeps across the room to the entry way and palms opens the door. "Mace, I told you-" he chokes on the words, heavy silence blanketing the apartment.

  


“Master?” Qui-Gon's voice is twisted up in a way Obi-Wan's never heard it be before.

  


“Qui-Gon. Where is my grandpadawan?” Master Yan's voice is brusque.

  


“He's resting, he doesn't need to see _you_ right now,” Qui-Gon says tersely.

  


“I heard him scream out in the force, quit your dramatics,” Master Yan snaps, “is he alright?”

  


“Master Yan?” Obi-Wan calls out, cutting over whatever his master was about to say, “I'm in here,” there's a muffled oof from Qui-Gon and then Master Yan is sweeping into their living room. His face softens when he sees Obi-Wan.

  


“Are you alright, Obi-Wan?” he frets, sitting beside him and gently turning his face to study it. Obi-Wan feels a touch of healing force and realizes he must have cut his face during his... fit.

  


“I'm fine, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan soothes, watching with amusement as Master Yan's face flashes through a series of micro expressions, settling on one that looks almost sad.

  


“I'm relieved to hear that, Grandpadawan,” he answers in kind, leaning in to rearrange the blanket tighter around Obi-Wan.

  


“Well you've seen that he's fine,” Qui-Gon calls their attention to where he's standing stiffly in the entrance of the hallway. Master Yan raises an eyebrow.

  


“I have,” he agrees, settling back further into the couch. Qui-Gon's eye twitches.

  


“Would you like some tea?” Obi-Wan offers, desperate to cut through the tension.

  


“There's no need for that, Padawan,” Qui-Gon says quickly, “Master Dooku isn't planning to stay that long,” Master Yan's head tilts.

  


“Actually, tea sounds lovely,” he challenges. Obi-Wan shifts to get up and Master Yan's hand flashes to his shoulder, “oh no, Obi-Wan,” he says, “your master is already up, I'm sure he doesn't mind,”

  


“Of course not,” Qui-Gon answers flatly, “I'll have to make some more, though,”

  


“Obi-Wan's usual is fine for me,” Master Yan says.

  


“You don't have to do that, grandmaster!” Obi-Wan says, at the same time Qui-Gon spits, “as if you know his favorite tea,” the two men stare at each other for a moment.

  


“Alderaanian Jade Flower and two spoonfuls of sugar,” Master Yan sniffs down his nose. Qui-Gon scowls at his old master.

  


“Very well,” Qui-Gon turns sharply on his heel and storms into the kitchen. Obi-Wan shrinks further into his blanket.

  


“Tell me what happened, little one,” Master Yan says softly, a gentle hand running down his arm. Obi-Wan sighs deeply.

  


“I had a vision in your apartment earlier,” he says, “but it wasn't the future- I think it was a memory of my past. I'm starting to think someone cut off my connection to the unifying force when I was little,” he explains the vision and what happened afterward, leaving out the details of his and his master's fight. When he's done, Master Yan hums thoughtfully.

  


“Curious,” he says as Qui-Gon re-enters with a tea tray, “foretime visions are rare, but it makes sense that you might have one,”

  


“A foretime vision?” Obi-Wan asks as his master starts pouring a cup of tea. His hands are shaking.

  


“A vision of the past,” Master Yan explains, turning to accept the cup of tea from Qui-Gon, “thank you, Qui-Gon,” Qui-Gon nods stiffly at him.

  


“It must be one, then,” Obi-Wan muses, smiling at Master Yan, “I knew you'd know what it was!”

  


“Well of cou-”

  


“Get out,” Qui-Gon's voice is sharp, and Obi-Wan flinches, turning wide eyes on his master. Master Yan frowns.

  


“Excuse me?”

  


“I said, _get out of my apartment_ ,” Qui-Gon raises himself to his full height, “I want you to leave and never speak to my padawan or I ever again,”

  


“What did I do?” Master Yan demands coldly.

  


“What haven't you done?” Qui-Gon fires back, “I know what you're up to. You can't fool me. Leave before I make you,”

  


“Do you hear yourself right now?” Master Yan asks, putting his teacup on the coffee table and rising to his full height, “please, explain my master plan to me because I am ignorant to it,”

  


“You're trying to steal my padawan from me!” Qui-Gon spits hysterically, “he's all I have left! I won't let you take him from me too!”

  


“I am not trying to poach your student, Qui-Gon. I am helping my grandpadawan,” Qui-Gon scoffs.

  


“Master-” Obi-Wan starts, heart beating faster in his chest.

  


“That's what you _say_ ,” Qui-Gon accuses, ignoring Obi-Wan, “while you sneak around behind my back and try to convince him I'm not competent enough to train him! I know you're trying to turn him against me, and I won't let you! You can't have him!” Master Yan shakes his head incredulously.

  


“Qui-Gon, I know that I was not the best master, I admit that. But this is ridiculous,” Qui-Gon shakes his head.

  


“No it's not,” his voice is choked, “it's _not_. You always do this!”

  


“I'm not doing anything to you, Qui-Gon,” Master Yan gestures out around him, “none of this is _about_ you!”

  


“It always is!” Qui-Gon's almost shouting now, “it's always about you teaching me some horrible lesson!”

  


“Will you calm yourself? This is utterly unbefitting of a Jedi master,” Master Yan demands. Obi-Wan tries to ease his own shaking, the unifying force sparking around him. His eyes are smarting as the voice inside of him screams _stop it don't let them do this._

  


“Don't tell me how to behave!” Qui-Gon's fists are clenched, “get out of my apartment, I won't have you here!”

  


“I'm not going to leave you with Obi-Wan while you're like this,” Master Yan refuses flatly.

  


“Oh what, because I'm _unbalanced_? Because I'm going to _do something_ to him?” Qui-Gon sneers, voice choked with tears, “just what kind of monster do you think I am? Obi-Wan, if he won't leave then _we're_ leaving,” Qui-Gon gestures for him without looking away from Master Yan.

  


“Master-”

  


“Obi-Wan stay where you are,” Master Yan orders, jaw tight, “Qui-Gon, we have our issues but don't drag Obi-Wan into it,” Qui-Gon shakes his head, gesturing for him again.

  


“Obi-Wan, _come here_ ,” Qui-Gon insists, and Obi-Wan hesitates. He doesn't know what's happening, doesn't know what the history between the two men is, but why must _he_ choose?

  


“Qui-Gon Jinn,” Master Yan growls, even as Qui-Gon takes a step towards his old master and the force twists in warning-

  


“ _Stop!_ ” Obi-Wan shrieks, the tense air shattering as both men's heads whip towards him.

  


“Obi-Wan-” both masters say at the same, reaching for him, then stop, staring at each other, hesitating. Qui-Gon pushes forward, kneeling in front of him.

  


“Little one?” he asks, anger gone and gentleness in its place, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” Obi-Wan shakes his head.

  


“Just stop,” he whispers, “both of you, _stop_ ,” the tears spill over and he buries his face in his knees, “you're making all of this worse!”

  


“Making what worse, young one?” Master Yan questions gently as Obi-Wan tries to wipe away the tears fruitlessly.

  


“The unifying force is warning me against you two fighting,” Obi-Wan admits, “I don't know why, but it's very important that you two make up. It's hurting my head when you fight, it's not right,”

  


“Do you need the healing halls?” Qui-Gon asks, hands coming up to brush his temples, “a painkiller?”

  


“That won't help with this,” Master Yan says heavily before Obi-Wan can answer, “I can help him meditate the pain away but-”

  


“ _You_ aren't going to touch him,” Qui-Gon hisses, “ _you_ did this to him. He was fine before you crawled into his head!” Master Yan sighs with bone-deep exhaustion.

  


“I didn't _do_ anything to him, Qui-Gon. Your padawan has a natural gift that, for some reason, had been muffled,” Master Yan shuts his eyes, pinching his nose, “I helped him _undo_ something that was harming his force psyche. He is learning right now, it is going to be difficult. Do _not_ accuse me of such uncouth things,”

  


“I'm stating facts as I see them,” Qui-Gon says stiffly, turning his back to Master Yan, voice softening, “is your head still hurting you, dear one?” Obi-Wan shrugs anxiously.

  


“A little,” he admits, “it's just hard to process everything right now,”

  


“Padawan-”

  


“Choose something and focus, like we practiced,” Master Yan cuts Qui-Gon off, “I can help you if you need it,”

  


“Or _I_ can help him, since _I'm_ his master,” Qui-Gon is glaring at the older man again. Obi-Wan feels his own frustration building. Must they both be so obtuse?

  


“You will only make this worse, you have no experience,” Master Yan snaps, heat finally rising in his voice as Qui-Gon huffs, arms crossing.

  


“You caused this problem!”

  


“Will you stop your paranoid _delusions_?” Master Yan's voice is raising, matching Qui-Gon's own, “I don't appreciate being demonized!”

  


“Maybe if you didn't-”

  


“ _Stop_ ,” Obi-Wan snaps himself, watching both men freeze, “just stop. You both need to do better,”

  


“Grandpadawan, you don't need to-”

  


“No! I'm speaking now,” Obi-Wan huffs, frustrated, “you both need to learn to communicate and work together- the force demands it. I am keeping both of you in my life, please remain polite. I am not asking you to be best friends,”

  


“I am your master and I will not-”

  


“No, Master Qui-Gon, the force has already settled this. Isn't that what you always say? Trust in the will of the force?" his master remains silent. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and carries on. "We're having a dinner out,” he announces pointedly, “and both of you are coming,”

  


“What?” Master Yan asks while Qui-Gon splutters, “why?”

  


“It's simple,” Obi-Wan says, leaning back and sipping his tea thoughtfully, “we have to relearn to be a lineage,”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know how to stop my first chapter note from being stuck on the end of every single chapter?
> 
> Also, Obi-Wan calls his panic attack a fit because he doesn't take his mental health seriously, that's not an author opinion on such things, just a characterization. And, btw, don't do that kids, acknowledging what things really are is very important!

**Author's Note:**

> Might fuck around and add a second chapter with the actual training + Qui-Gon realizing what's happening, but we'll see.


End file.
